


Asleep On The Job

by Arlene0401



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Intoxication, M/M, Mention of OC, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, Past Relationship(s), mention of past Bertolt/OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/Arlene0401
Summary: It's not Reiner's habit to take strangers home, let alone get involved in drunken one night stands. Bertolt however, as gorgeous as he is heart-broken, pushes on all his buttons.Things go... decidedly not as planned.Luckily.





	Asleep On The Job

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this may or may not be inspired by real life events.... maybe from a conversation I had with one person or other about terrible blowjobs and them mentioning they had at one point fallen asleep while giving head... and maybe from someone else telling me about some New Year's Eve shenanigans... who knows?  
> For reasons of discretion, I'll keep my sources secret this once. Y'all know who you are wink wonk

Reiner’s back hit the mattress and the air left his lungs when Bertolt landed on top of him. The impact however didn’t affect their frantic groping and shifting. 

Head swimming with alcohol and raw need, Reiner flipped them over and came to rest between those endless legs that had first caught his attention some hours ago. It had been a long time since he’d last taken someone home… and it had been a long time since he had last wanted to fuck someone as badly as this beautiful stranger.

Their mouths collided in another wet, uncoordinated kiss, and Bertolt pawed at Reiner’s clothes, trying to wrestle the shirt off his back, get a hand into his pants, while they rutted so hard against each other it was bordering on painful.

Suddenly, the room whirled around Reiner, and he was briefly confused if that was the tequila in his system again, but apparently Bertolt had rolled them over again, somehow taking half of the blankets with them in the process. He fumbled with Reiner’s belt with a mumbled: “C’mon Reiner, fuck, need you, _c’mon_.” Impatiently, Reiner helped him with the button and zipper, and used the momentum when Bertolt ducked down to pull his sweater up and over his head.

Stuck, Bertolt cursed and tugged at the garment, and when he had finally freed his head and one arm he went straight for Reiner’s dick like a man possessed.

Reiner hissed and arched up, grabbed fistfuls of Bertolt’s hair, and he had little to no idea that this was going to be the worst blow-job of his life.

Bertolt certainly wasn’t lacking in enthusiasm, as proven by his fervent sucking and licking and slurping, but he was _definitely_ lacking both coordination and technique. Which, honestly, was only one of the problems, because with this much booze in his body Reiner could have shoved his cock into a milking machine without any results.

Try as he might, Reiner couldn’t will the stubborn appendage to hardness, and it only half-heartedly twitched in Bertolt’s mouth. He prayed that please please, just this one night was not the right time for whisky dick - well, more precisely tequila, beer, and Red Bull with Jägermeister dick - because he was goddamn horny enough to hump an armchair like a dog in heat. And when had he ever scored a finer piece of ass? Alas, instant karma is a bitch, and this was his payback for downing way too many shots.

Bertolt, too, seemed to sense that his efforts were fruitless, and his furious attempts at blowing Reiner subsided to a soft rhythmic sucking, that… wait. That didn’t even feel like sucking anymore, rather like… suckling?

“Bertolt?” A pile of messy bedding obstructed the view, and Reiner prodded the lump he presumed to be Bertolt. 

No reaction. He prodded harder. “Bertolt?”

Reiner nudged Bertolt with his knee and only got a little groan and more suckling in response. Fed up, he flicked away all the sheets and blankets.

Bertolt was fast asleep, snoring softly around the dick in his mouth. Reiner ran a palm down his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What a way to start the new year.”

**********

Bertolt awoke from the nagging feeling of having an ice cold backside. Slowly coming to, he felt around and discovered that his ass was naked and more or less hanging out of the bed. More feeling around proved that his sweatshirt only hung on one arm and that his pants and underwear were pushed down. The bed sheets didn’t smell familiar.

In alarm, he sat up and was greeted by a sledgehammer to the face.

Instantly, he fell back and winced in pain.

Okay. Damage report. Clothes half off, a strange bed, a murderous headache and a feeling like something small and furry had crawled down his throat and died there. Conclusion: alien abduction or hangover.

The latter sounded a bit more convincing, so Bertolt screwed his eyes shut and tried to remember something that could explain his whereabouts.

He remembered… a party. Lots of noise, happy faces swimming in and out of focus,but he himself hadn’t felt happy. He recalled feeling lonely and miserable, and crying on several shoulders. A stranger’s face, calm and reserved but not unfriendly. A suggestion for fresh air. More crying, lots of noise and bright lights in the streets, flashes of red and green and gold through tear-filled eyes. More alcohol, lots more of it. Dancing. The friendly stranger who had appeared very attractive through the haze, attractive enough for Bertolt to beg him to take him home and make him forget, just for one night.

Forget… what?

Oh, right.

The thumb of his right hand felt the inside of the ring finger, now empty. Until occupied by a slim silver band. Until the 18th of December, 9:31 p.m., to be precise. That was the exact moment when Bertolt’s organized and secure life had been shattered into a million pieces. After living together for two years, his lover Matthew had calmly declared he didn’t love Bertolt anymore, packed his bags and left without as much as a glance back. The pain was excruciating, all-encompassing, and he had spent the last two weeks in a daze. How could a heart hurt so much and continue beating? 

At the point where his friend Annie had asked him if he wanted to come to a New Year’s party he had stopped caring. Maybe getting out could numb the agony. Just for one night.

And well, he had succeeded, hadn’t he? He had cried his heart out, he had drunk more than he had done in a whole year, he had danced, and landed in bed with some gorgeous hunk. As for the proceedings in said bed… he had no clue. But he wasn’t hurting anywhere, nor was there any worrisome itching, so he presumed that nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

Hearing some subtle shuffling, Bertolt cautiously peeled an eye open and was greeted by a broad, muscular back and an ass that deserved to be called worshippable. The ass in question was, much to his regret, just now being covered by a fresh pair of black boxer briefs. 

The owner of the ass turned around and, upon noticing that Bertolt was awake, shot an insecure little smile in his direction. “Morning, Bertolt. Sorry, did I wake you?”

Bertolt managed to shake his aching head. “No, you didn’t… Reiner.”

Reiner’s face lit up at him remembering the name. With his tousled bed head and morning stubble he looked younger than groomed and styled for the night, although the pallor of his face and the deep shadows under his eyes betrayed that he probably felt nearly as shitty as Bertolt.

As if reading his thoughts, Reiner offered him a glass of water and an Aspirin.

“Yeah thanks, I’ll just - can I use your bathroom and, uh, fresh up a little before I go?”

“Sure. It’s the next door down the hallway. Towels are in the cupboard.” Reiner looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then he just grabbed a t-shirt from the dresser and disappeared.

Bertolt wrestled his pants back up and the sweatshirt on and followed Reiner’s direction to the bathroom. The man in the mirror looked vaguely familiar, although his longish face was more haggard than ever and his hair stood stupidly into every direction. Grateful that at least he didn’t feel too nauseous, he rinsed his mouth, washed his face and smoothed his hair as best as he could with wet hands.  
Why a handsome guy like Reiner had picked up someone like him was beyond Bertolt. He was tall, lanky and awkward, his nose was too long, his face too narrow, he broke out in a nervous sweat at the drop of a hat, and he had spent most of the night either moping into his drink or crying. With a sigh, he draped the towel neatly over an empty rack. What a pity that this was a one-time thing and he couldn’t even remember if it had been any good.

The kitchen was easy to find - he simply followed the lovely aroma of coffee. On the table, he found a tall glass of water and some Aspirin, as promised. He swallowed the pills and drained the whole glass, and nothing had ever tasted better than the cool water running down his throat.

He sat the glass down, eyes still closed, and let out a long sigh. A low chuckle however had his eyes flying open in confusion and embarrassment. Reiner was leaning against the kitchen counter by the coffee maker, nursing an enormous mug. 

“Want another glass of water? Or a coffee? You look like you could need it.”

Bertolt hesitated, and Reiner added: “You’re not intruding. If I didn’t want you to stay for a coffee, I wouldn’t have offered.” He made a gesture towards one of the chairs.

Considering his choices and shrugging internally, Bertolt pulled the chair back and sat. “You’re pretty blunt,” he said to Reiner’s back.

“Works most of the time,” Reiner answered and filled another huge mug with coffee. He brought both drinks to the table and placed one in front of Bertolt.

The liquid looked black as tar, and steamed like it was still at boiling point. Tentatively, Bertolt took a sip. Good lord. That shit was strong enough to raise the dead, erase oil splatters from the garage floor and possibly neutralize nuclear waste. He swallowed, and his eyes began to water.

“Uh, do you have sugar or creamer or anything?” he croaked.

“Oh, right. I drink my coffee black, so I tend to forget it.” Reiner got up and grabbed a pot of sugar and a spoon. “No creamer I’m afraid, is regular milk okay?”

“Sure.” Gratefully, Bertolt spooned a copious amount of sugar into his mug and filled it up with milk to the rim. The liquid remained an ominous bitter chocolate brown. He’d probably have heart palpitations for a week, but no way was he going to refuse to drink this hellish brew for fear of being impolite. He sipped again. It was still incredibly strong, but he would manage.

“So, how much of last night do you remember?” Reiner asked.

“Most of it is a blur,” Bertolt admitted. “And, well, I’m sorry but what I really can’t remember, did we - I mean, you and me…” He let the sentence hang in the air, suddenly too shy to say it out loud.  
“No.” Reiner turned his mug in his hands. “No, we didn’t. We wanted to, but - “ He laughed, a little awkward, and ran his hands over his hair.

“But what?”

“You fell asleep.”

“I fell asleep while we were about to have sex?”

“You did. And - oh Jeez, I shouldn’t really laugh, but dude - you snoozed off with my dick in your mouth.”

“I did _what_?” Bertolt dropped his head to the table and caged it with his arms. Could the ground maybe do him the favor of opening up and swallowing him? “Please tell me that’s not true. That’s the worst epic fail in history.”

To his surprise, he felt a warm hand covering his own.

“Don’t beat yourself up like that. We were both drunk as fuck, and it saved me from the embarrassment of not getting hard. And it was… kind of cute, really.”

“Cute?” How the hell could Reiner call someone falling asleep on his dick cute?

“Yes, cute. And, erm, I’m sort of glad that nothing happened. Well, nothing much anyway.” Suddenly, it was Reiner who sounded a little shy.

Bertolt unwrapped his arms and blinked up at him. “Yeah, because with a sober head you sure would have regretted shacking up with someone like me.”

Reiner cocked his head, clearly taken aback by the bitterness in Bertolt’s voice. “Woah, where did that come from? Look, I thought it last night, and I still do, that you’re one of the most amazing persons who ever crossed my way. You’re beautiful, smart, and when you’re not crying over your lost love - which I blame both the season and the alcohol for - very funny.” Absentmindedly, his thumb rubbed soothing circles into Bertolt’s knuckles, and he looked at everything in the kitchen safe for his face with traitorously pink ears. “The only thing I would have regretted was having only a drunken one night stand with you.”

**********

Reiner filled the recently acquired teapot with boiling water and watched the dried leaves turn the liquid a golden color. He closed the lid and let the mixture steep, content in watching the flawless October sky through the window.

The tea was for Bertolt. Of course it was. Nothing short of a heart transplant would get Reiner to give up his beloved, black-as-the-devil’s-soul coffee. It had taken Bertolt several weeks to muster up the courage to tell Reiner it was eating away his stomach and he’d rather have something else. One by one, several variations of black and herbal tea had crept their way into his kitchen, until in the end he had bought a decent teapot. 

They had spent so many hours just sitting at his kitchen table and talking, clutching their mugs. At first it had been a little weird, their New Year’s Eve escapade still lingering. But it was important that Bertolt got over his breakup first to not make this a rebound thing. And apparently - Reiner clenched his fist - this Marty, Marileen or what’s-his-face had done quite a thorough number of trampling all over Bertolt’s heart. The casual way of taking his leave was just the tip of the iceberg, as was evident in Bertolt being so frazzled from someone taking a genuine interest in him or just doing nice little things for him. Well, being frazzled was pretty much Bertolt’s default mode anyway, but when Reiner complimented him on his new jeans or texted to ask if he’d gotten home safely he turned into a state of maximum frazzledness.

Lately, however… things had gained momentum. Over the summer, Bertolt had plenty opportunity to ogle Reiner in tank tops and track shorts, and slowly but surely his thoughts had taken off into a particular direction. Reiner could see it in the other’s gaze, but he didn’t press the matter. Although he was sorely tempted to. Because much as he valued Bertolt as a friend, he wanted him to be so much more. Wanted to undress him like unwrapping a precious gift, and worship every inch of skin. 

Kept his hands to himself because he didn’t want to initiate anything Bertolt wasn’t ready for. And lo and behold, a couple of days ago they had been watching a movie at Bertolt’s place when he had suddenly asked if he could kiss Reiner, and they might have gotten a little bit carried away and ended up making out amidst a spilled bowl of popcorn.

The doorbell chirped and pulled him out of his thoughts. His heart skipped when he saw Bertolt carrying a small overnighter. They had talked about this, but there had still been the chance of him changing his mind.

“Well hello there, hot stuff,” Reiner purred and batted his eyelids, “you come here often?”

Bertolt dropped his bag and unbuttoned his coat, half hiding a smile that was both shy and sly into the thick woolen scarf around his neck.

“I hope you’ll let me,” he mumbled with a playfully coy glance, and Reinber’s heart did a dubstep again. Maybe, just maybe he should lay off the coffee a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless multi- and polyshipper.
> 
> You can find my SNK and personal blog under [glassesgirl0401](http://glassesgirl0401.tumblr.com)


End file.
